


Who?

by PatPrecieux



Series: Questions [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Who can we turn to? Who is to blame?





	

**Author's Note:**

> The questions are asked. The answers are many. The outcome unsure. The fault, without doubt.

Greg had been a copper too long to ignore the fact that sometimes a bad plan was better than no plan. That was why he made sure Mycroft was at NSY at 2 when Sherlock had come, and at the pub at 7 when he met John.

 

As Greg anticipated, and Mycroft deduced, neither encounter had gone well. Both Sherlock and John had felt betrayed by their friend, and furious at the interference of the British Government.

 

Greg had tried, without success, to explain that their problems would be better shared with all who cared about them. This was met with distain from the younger Holmes, and disgust from the obviously distraught doctor.

 

Both encounters had ended in screaming matches and, in John's case, a threat of physical violence. So it was that Greg and Mycroft found themselves in a private room at the Diogenes, picking at a plate of food neither wanted.

 

"Did you reach your brother?"

 

"I have been declared persona non grata at Baker Street, and, unless I am mistaken, Mrs. Hudson now considers me a vermin or reptile or something of the sort. Doubtful you will meet with better results. And your efforts to communicate with the good doctor?"

 

" 'Fuck off you traitorous bastard', basically covers it."

 

"Ever the eloquent speaker our Doctor Watson. Rest assured Gregory that was mild compared to what I would have encountered. I have always suspected John has been looking for an excuse to pummel me from the first day we met."

 

"Well that's NOT going to happen. You're only involved in this because of me."

 

"I'm involved because, contrary to what Sherlock believes, as I told John that first day, I DO worry about my brother constantly."

 

"I know know you do Myc. Ah sorry I mean Mycroft."

 

"Desperate times, Greg. I find myself also strangely, profoundly distressed at this schism between Sherlock and John."

 

"Wasn't being dramatic when I told you I'm terrified for both of them. And I'm not sorry we met them together. They may not like it, but at least they have to accept other people care."

 

"I've never really thought of myself as 'other' people."

 

Greg couldn't suppress a small smile, "Maybe Mrs. H is right, and you're a species all on your own. Brotherous Interferus."

 

"As a measure of how upsetting I find this entire situation, I actually see the humor in your last remark."

 

"Christ, England will fall."

 

"Without doubt, however, our current concerns are more pressing."

 

"Yeah, I know. Have no idea why, but I keep thinking the weekend is going to help us with some answers."

 

"I want to share your optimism, pointed questions with only murky solutions are against my nature. My brother and I both hate not knowing."

 

"The thing that stirs the shite for me is the one glaring fact that no one's talking about. The cruel truth that everyone is tiptoeing around for fear of offending or appearing unsympathetic. Dammit to hell, you don't even know what I'm on about."

 

"I believe I do. To confront this part of the equation is to invite a measure of both agreement and hate. That being said, you are referring to WHO is at fault. WHO is the poison introduced into a formula that was perfection turning it into a convoluted mess."

 

At that moment both men looked into the face of the other and responded in unison, "MARY".

**Author's Note:**

> Just because you become a victim, does not make you blameless.
> 
> May Sunday bring clarity and hope.


End file.
